Daddy's Girl
by hopelesslyhalfhearted
Summary: A series of one shots, all revolving around questions fielded to Harry by his daughter.
1. Roundabouts

Roundabouts

"What's your favourite food?" She's sat on the roundabout, right in the middle, she'd insisted upon being in that position ever since Nikki had vaguely mentioned that apparently it makes people feel less sick. She'd asked Leo if it was true and the elder man replied that he had heard of the theory, yes. Whatever Leo said was practically gospel truth to her, so she stuck to her little plan. You can't understand how moving a few inches could possibly change the strength of the horrible dizzy feeling produced by the god awful thing. You've always hated them; they've always made you feel sick. You wonder if you should have a go at sitting in the middle (like she urges you to do every time you're in a park) maybe then you might enjoy it, but you very quickly decide against it. The time your dad insisted you went on one comes to mind and you'd rather not ruin another one of your favourite t-shirts.

You hesitate to answer her question; it's a difficult one, especially for a man whose mother may as well be a professional restaurateur and whose wife isn't far behind. You think about what you've eaten in the past week, for your mind struggles to remember anything beyond a week or two; most days seem to merge into one another now you're over 40. Monday you had pasta and Tuesday you had a takeaway because Nikki got called out, leaving you to arrange dinner; your cooking skills only stretch as far as being able to serve up cheese on toast and you'd used all the cheese that morning making packed lunches. You have to keep the takeaway secret though, Nikki's trying to be as perfect as Nigella Lawson and have you all eating healthy food, although you have a feeling that she has noticed the Penguin bars you sneak into the kids' lunch boxes. Wednesday is always macaroni cheese day and Thursday is 'Chance' day, one of the kids chooses a random page from the recipe book and Niks makes it. You block Thursday out of your mind, the meal had involved spinach. Friday you had cheese on toast because you had to rush off to a case and today you're at Janet's birthday, so you stuffed yourself full with numerous mini bites and little triangular sandwiches.

You have taken her to the park just down the road; she had become bored of how weird Nikki and Janet were being, although her brothers remained highly amused, so they stayed. You didn't fancy explaining alcohol to her; so you simply said they'd had too many tuna sandwiches - you hope this will deter your daughter from her current obsession with tuna sandwiches, thus meaning you don't have to face the smell every morning whilst making her lunch. You're glad you took her out and as usual you enjoy hearing about the unicorn picture she painted and how she has the meanest brothers in the world; but you're even happier that you managed to bring a tray full of food with you.

Right now you are eating ice cream, the multi coloured one, that's stripy in the box, and is meant to be strawberry, vanilla and chocolate, but it melts away in your bowl and ends up as a gloopy pale brown mess; you think it's called Napoleon or something. It doesn't look great. You think it tastes nice though.

"Ice cream," You shovel a large spoonful of the stuff into your mouth as soon as you've answered your daughter. It tastes wonderful. You know you've answered the question correctly.

**Because often I don't really have the inspiration to write for a continuing storyline, and sometimes I just fancy writing a little random bit, I thought maybe this would be a nice way for me to do that. I found this first chapter hidden away on my computer from months ago, which explains Janet's presence. Hopefully there will be more to follow :)**


	2. Pretty Hair

Pretty Hair

"Daddy," You prepare yourself – she said it in that questioning tone, which means that, even though you are currently tucking her in, you won't be able to leave the room for another 15 minutes; you'll have to answer her question, and the various follow on questions about your answer to the previous. You look down at her, praying that she'll see the bags under your eyes and take mercy on you. You know this is stupid – at 5, she still seems to think you're some kind of super human, who only needs her company to survive; she wouldn't even give you chance to break for meals, if given the choice. "Where..." You cringe, hoping you're not going to have to tell the stork or baby store story. With this amount of energy, you really can't be bothered with a question that requires you to use your imagination. "Did you meet Mummy?" Thank god for that.

"At work," You lean down and kiss her forehead, willing for this to be enough information, but knowing that it wouldn't be.

"With Uncle Leo?"

"Yes, he was our boss,"

"Did you share lifts?"

"With Leo?"

"With Mummy?"

"Yes, when we had the same times,"

"That why you married her?"

"Did I marry Mummy so that I could share her car?" She nods. "Of course. Night, night darling." You stand up quickly and make your way over to the door.

"You didn't marry Mummy 'cause you love her?" You turn around and look at her face – her pouting, confused and upset face – the face that melts you on the spot and leaves you wrapped around her little finger (she hasn't realised how to take advantage of this yet, and you hope she never does.)

"Well, that too." You sit down at the edge of her bed again. "I married Mummy because I love her – not just to save petrol. Ok?"

"Why?"

"I just told you why; because I love her," You repeat, calmly.

"No. Why do you love her?"

"Sweetie," You pause, and think; something which is becoming increasingly difficult in direct proportion to your exhaustion. "If I told you all the reasons why I love Mummy, we'd be here for so long that you'd miss your school trip tomorrow – and we wouldn't want that." _And Daddy will get to sleep quicker if we don't._

"Ok." You feel a surge of hope – has her questioning stopped? It was quicker than you expected. "Then, what's your favourite?"

"My favourite reason for loving Mummy?" Another small nod. "She's my one and only best friend." _She knows me better than anyone in the world._

"That's a rubbish reason." You sigh. "Ben's my best friend – we're not Mummy and Daddy."

"Fine." You run a hand through your greying hair. "She has very pretty hair."

"That's a good reason." You think if you were less worn out, you would try explaining that love cannot and should not be based on pretty hair, or looks of any kind – but as it is, you'll let her carry on with her Disney Princess fantasy for a little longer.

"It's the best. Good night," You kiss her forehead again and stand up. "Love you,"

"Love you," You tickle her nose and chuckle as she crinkles it up. "Good night, Mummy," You look up to see Nikki smiling in the doorway.

**Oh, shameless, pointless, rambling fluff, how I love thee.**


End file.
